


sing from the heart (this was our start)

by AceMoppet



Series: Merigolds and Buttercups [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Bingo Prompt - Sing, First Meetings, Fluff, Other, Singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:47:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29716695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceMoppet/pseuds/AceMoppet
Summary: Triss is intrigued by the odd bard Foltest has hired for Princess Adda’s debut banquet.
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion/Triss Merigold
Series: Merigolds and Buttercups [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2183934
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8
Collections: Sugar and Spice Witcher Bingo





	sing from the heart (this was our start)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Sugar and Spice Witcher Bingo! My prompt was “sing”!

“Your Majesty, the bard has arrived.”

“About time,” Foltest grumbles. “Send them in.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” The steward bows and heads out of the room.

“A bard, Your Majesty?” Triss asks. After the striga incident, the Brotherhood had decided to reassign her to Temeria permanently, seeing how she had more goodwill shored up with King Foltest than any other mage. It’s only been a year since then, but she’s become a staple in the Temerian court, and, what’s better, she has Foltest’s ear and trust.

So much so that the king and her are currently going over plans for Princess Adda’s banquet. The princess had finally returned from the Temple two days back- she would never speak or act up to royalty’s standards, but that didn’t stop Foltest from loving her dearly. For all his faults, the man is a doting father.

“For the banquet,” Foltest explains, signing off another scroll. “Tell me, Miss Merigold- have you heard the bard Jaskier before?”

Triss raises her eyebrows. “Geralt of Rivia’s barker?” she asks. “They’re quite famous- have you invited them?”

“Yes,” Foltest says. Then he sighs and wipes a hand down his face. “I’d hoped you’d heard them before- I’ve heard mostly good things about them, but this tardiness… it does not bode well.”

Triss looks at the king. For the first time since Adda was rescued, he looks small again, a tired man instead of a ruler.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Triss says, trying to reassure him. “The road can be a difficult place- perhaps they were just delayed.”

Foltest sighs again. “Perhaps.”

“Your Majesty!” they say, swanning into the room without a care. They’re quite…  _ bright,  _ for lack of a better word. They’ve dressed up in yellow and silver with accents of black- Temerian colors, Triss notes- and their hair flops into their eyes as they merrily make their way over to the table. A bold character, to flaunt like that, but then again, they  _ are  _ a bard.

“Thank you for inviting me!” they say, bowing with an elegant flourish. “It is my honor to even be here, and would be more so to serve you in any way I can.”

Triss bites back a laugh.  _ They’re certainly laying the charm on thick. _

Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem to be working on Foltest. “It would have been better had you arrived when you were supposed to,” he rumbles.

“Ah, yes,” The bard’s smile dims, but they make a remarkable effort in rallying their cheer back up. “That! Your Majesty, that is all due to your absolutely  _ lovely _ kingdom!”

_ Oh?  _ Triss thinks, leaning forward.  _ This will be interesting. _

Foltest must think so too. “How so, bard?”

The bard smiles wider- they almost look unhinged now, with their manic eyes and twitching fingers as they try to dig themself out of the hole they’d dug. “You see, Your Majesty,” they say, “I had been delayed on my way up here- your country is full of the finest citizens anyone could ever ask for! Once they heard that I was on my way up here, they wanted me to send you a sample of their good wishes! I wrote them down as quickly as I could and arranged them into a song just for you, O King. Shall I play it for you?”

Triss blinks, utterly shocked at the level of this bard’s audacity. Surely Foltest wouldn’t fall for something as blatantly untrue as that-

“Play on, bard.”

...Well. Tissaia always did say that a king’s closest friend was his ego.

The bard bows comically low- almost clipping their head on the table as they do so- and bounces back up. They sling their lute off their back- the famous elven lute glows in the sunlight- and start their song.

It’s… not the worst song Triss has ever heard. It’s actually quite good, given that the bard had clearly just come up with it on the fly. The tune is bouncy and keeps her feet tapping in time, and the words, while simple, are cheery and flattering. They’re even sung in the local dialect- a way of stitching truth into a lie no one would ever believe.

And of course, their voice… there’s a richness to it, palpable even through the light-hearted ditty. If this is how they sing an improvised, two-bit melody, how much richer will they sound when singing an actual song?

Against her will, Triss is impressed. Though, she wonders how Geralt ended up with a bard such as them- she can’t imagine that stoic mountain of a witcher entertaining them for even a second.

The bard ends their melody and sweeps into another bow. “I do hope that satisfied Your Majesty,” they say. “And you as well, my Lady!”

The sudden attention startles her. “Ah-” she says, realizing that both the bard and Foltest are looking for an answer. She smiles back as politely as she can. “It was quite good! Though I’m sure His Majesty enjoyed it much more, given that it was a song meant for him.”

“Your assumption is correct, Miss Merigold,” Foltest says. Then he turns back to the bard. “Bard, you’ve done well- I see you stand up to your reputation.”

The bard smiles wider. “I am honored Your Majesty thinks so!” they exclaim, bowing wildly again. This time, their head  _ does  _ clip the side of the table. “Ow!”

“Ah-” Triss hurries to them. She bats away their hands and tilts their head backwards. “Are you alright?”

The bard hisses, and she gentles her grip until they finally look at her and- oh. 

_ Pretty, _ Triss thinks absently as their blue eyes latch onto hers.

The bard smiles dopily. “With you looking after me, my Lady,” they say, “how could I not be?”

Triss tries not to let that remark go to her face-  _ Melitele’s sake,  _ she’s a  _ mage _ , she’s been flirted with far better lines and in better situations than this! But there’s something so earnest about the way they look at her, an awe so evident in those blue eyes, that she can’t help but be a little bit flattered, if not flustered.

Still, she’s a professional. So she firmly ignores the bard’s flirting and probes at the knot forming on their head. It’s not bruising yet, but she’s no doubt that if she doesn’t do anything, it’ll blossom a sickly purple. “Skin’s not broken,” she says, conjuring up Chaos and coaxing it into the shape she wants before feeding it to the bard’s head. They shiver under her hands, but the wrinkle of pain that had appeared between their eyebrows disappears. “Don’t worry, you would have just had a bruise.”

She takes her hands back and sees that the bard is still staring at her. Their gaze is… unnerving, but not in a bad way. “A bruise, you say?” the bard rasps, eyes darting over her face. The naked wonder in them makes her want to duck her head. “A foul thing for a performer, my Lady! Truly, you’ve saved me from a fate worse than death- allow me to write a ballad in your honor!”

In her shock, Triss nearly misses Foltest’s huff of amusement- it’s then that she remembers that they’re not the only ones in the room. She backs away from the bard with a polite cough.

“That’s not necessary, Master Bard,” she says, trying to regain some of the footing she’d lost. 

“Nay, I insist!” the bard says. “I must write for you- something on how the Angel of Temeria pulled a humble bard back from the brink of death-”

_ Angel of Temeria?!  _ “That won’t be necessary!” Triss splutters, ears burning under her hair. “Master Bard, please remember that you’re here for Princess Adda’s banquet!”

“Thank you for bringing us back to that, Miss Merigold,” Foltest says dryly. “Bard Jaskier, you’ve had a long journey- go rest. A steward should be outside- he’ll lead you to your chambers. We can discuss your responsibilities for the banquet later.”

“A fine idea!” the bard slings their lute back over their shoulder and bows once again- this time, thankfully, keeping  _ well _ away from the edge of the table. “Thank you once again, O King, for this lovely honor!”

“Yes, yes,” Foltest says, waving them off. “Go take your rest now, bard.”

“Of course!” For a moment, Triss thinks that’s the end of it, but then they turn their attention to her.

“Lady Merigold, was it?” the bard asks, grinning wider. “I hope we can meet again soon!”

That they will for sure, especially if they’re to be involved in the banquet. Still, Triss nods politely. “I’d like that too,” she says, and absurdly finds herself meaning it.

The bard’s eyes widen in delight, but before they can say anything else, the steward comes in and ushers them to their chambers. They go, but not without a last glance towards Triss.

_ What an odd fellow,  _ Triss thinks, turning to Foltest. The king looks at her, eyes narrowed in shrewd amusement.

“That bard is besotted with you, Miss Merigold,” he rumbles, chuckling.

“Ah, well-” and just what is she supposed to say to  _ that?  _ “They uh. They’re a bard- bards are always a bit odd, I suppose.”

Foltest hums, but thankfully doesn’t press the issue further. “Remind me where we were before we got interrupted.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Triss sits back down and reorganizes her papers. For the rest of the afternoon, all thoughts of the oddly charming bard are pushed out of her head as they prepare for the banquet.

  
  



End file.
